


We Keep Our Secrets Downstairs

by roebling



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon doesn't know what Spencer's keeping secret; he doesn't like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Keep Our Secrets Downstairs

**Author's Note:**

> LOL IDEK. Not beta'ed. Ridiculous. I missed writing about these guys <3

Brendon wakes when the alarm on Spencer's phone goes off. There's a warm boyfriend-shaped space next to him, but no boyfriend. He makes a discontented noise and rolls into the pool of heat Spencer left. 

"Where are you going?" he mumbles into the pillow. It smells like Spencer's shampoo. "It's not even morning yet." 

He is tired and wants to cuddle, and Spencer is totally the best possible person for cuddling when he's not waking up literally pre-dawn. Spencer has his jeans on but not his shirt. Brendon wants to undress him again and lead him back to bed and spend at least another few hours there. 

"Have to go home and grab a change of clothes before the meeting with the label," Spencer mumbles. His hair is a mess and there are still circles under his eyes. They were in the studio late. "We have to impress them, Brendon. We have to show them we're taking this seriously." 

"We are," Brendon agrees. The band comes first, no matter what. That doesn't mean he shouldn't get to cuddle Spencer in the early morning, before Spencer is awake enough to get all surly and tense and when the morning light makes his eyes look so very intensely blue. "So dumb you have to go home. Should just borrow something of mine." 

Brendon is hardly awake and he's been deprived of cuddles; he can't manage full sentences 

Spencer rolls his eyes affectionately. "I'll be back in a half an hour," he says. 

"You should just move in, dude," Brendon says, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is getting stupid." 

Spencer's eyes go wide and his mouth narrows and he pulls on his tee shirt. He shakes his head and goes. 

*****

It's not the first time Brendon's asked him to move in. It's also not the first time Spencer's avoided the subject with the subtlety of a semi-truck barreling down a highway. Hell, half the time he just flat-out says no, insisting that since they already share so much of their lives -- best friends, boyfriends, band mates -- it's important they keep this one thing separate, so they each have their own space. 

Brendon doesn't buy it though. Spencer totally never learned the art of making up believable pretentious psychobabble on the fly -- funny, considering Ryan's the world champ -- and he knows that the 'need our own space' thing is just a dumb excuse. Spencer's over at Brendon's place all the time, literally, and the rare occasions he's not at Brendon's Brendon is at his. 

There's something else, some other reason he won't move in with Brendon. Brendon doesn't know what it is, and he can't think about it too long without his stomach starting to hurt and all the bad feelings of doubt he's worked so hard to get rid of starting to drift back. It's not good.

*****

The weekend after they finish recording they celebrate with a party, and since Spencer's got a bigger place, the party is at his. Spencer's house is nice -- he bought it when they first moved out from Vegas, thinking eventually he'd be joined by Haley and the dogs. Things didn't work out that way thought, and there's an unfortunate pall hanging over Spencer's big empty house. He never bothered to decorate much, and it's got the sterile unpleasant feel of a show home. 

But it's bigger than Brendon's apartment, so after a little persuasion Spencer agrees the party should be held there. 

It's an awesome night. It's hard to believe they've got this thing they made together so nearly finished. Yeah, what happens with Ryan and Jon still hurts. The ache is just dulled, like a wound scabbed over and still sore. But in ways that he couldn't have imagined two years ago Brendon is happy with his life, and so excited about the future. All their friends show up -- Shane and Regan, Butch, Pete and his crew, Zack and Carol. They drink too much and play music and beer pong and Brendon doesn't spend the entire night glued to Spencer's side. They're not like that. They've known each other too well and too long. But they gravitate towards each other naturally, so at quarter after midnight Brendon slips his hand in Spencer's back pocket and leans his head on Spencer's shoulder and says, "Wasn't this awesome, Spence?" 

Spencer smiles, and it's so weird how easily that smile takes Brendon's breath away, and how long it took him to realize that it did. He feels sometimes like he spent the first four years he knew Spencer with his head wrapped in cotton gauze. "Totally awesome," he says. "I can't believe we made a record, Brendon. Your songs --"

"Our songs," Brendon says, insistent, because they are theirs. 

"Our songs are real." Spencer puts his arm around Brendon's waist. "It's crazy." 

"It is," Brendon says. 

There's a crash from the kitchen, and a moment of silence followed by Pete's raucous laughter. Spencer's eyes widen. "Oh shit," he says. "I'll go see what they did." 

It's nearly three o'clock before everyone's cleared out. Spencer's putting the cars back in the garage and Brendon's trying to clean up the kitchen -- or at least leave it in a state that won't make them want to cry when they wake up tomorrow. He's gotten most of the empties in a bin to take outside, and he's collected all the trashed plastic cups. He'd like to wipe down the table and counters, but Spencer's dish towels are not fit for use after an earlier margarita incident and he's out of paper towels. 

With a sad, sudden shock, amplified by exhaustion and intoxication, Brendon realizes he doesn't even know where Spencer keeps the spare paper towels. 

"My boyfriend's house, and I don't even know where he keeps them," he says quietly to himself, pitiful and drunk. 

It's not right. Not right at all. They're partners, and Brendon doesn't understand why Spencer tries to keep him out. 

He squares his shoulders. There's got to be a pantry somewhere, he figures. There's a weird little hall off the kitchen with doors Brendon's never opened. He'll start there. The first is just a broom closet, the second empty but for a half dozen shoe boxes stacked on the floor. Brendon rolls his eyes. The third, though -- the third opens on to a flight of stairs leading down. 

Brendon didn't even know this house had a basement. 

He gropes in the dark for a light switch, but the single bulb doesn't reveal much. 

Brendon trusts Spencer more than he has ever trusted anyone in his entire life. He knows Spencer has nothing to hide. He's not snooping. He just needs to find some paper towels. 

He takes the stairs slowly. The basement room is big and dark. There's another light switch; Brendon flips that on to get a better look around. 

He gasps. 

Spencer has an entire little world down here, spread out over two big tables. Tiny trains chug slowly up to speed. Little lights twinkle. A miniature ferris wheel circles, with cars no bigger than a pencil eraser trembling ever so slightly. There's literally yards of track. The detail is incredible, like something you'd see in a museum. It's amazing, and it's beautiful, and Brendon doesn't understand what this is doing here. He doesn't understand why Spencer never would have said anything. 

"Brendon?" Spencer is at the top of the stairs. "What are you doing ...." He pauses halfway down and goes silent. "Oh." 

"Spencer," Brendon says. "Spence. Dude." 

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut. He's got two red spots on his cheeks; he's had a bit to drink too. "Oh," he says. "Yeah."

His shoulders are hunched and his chin is tucked and he's as curled in on himself as Brendon's ever seen him. 

"Spence, what is this?" Brendon doesn't understand where this came from -- it's not something he ever heard Ryan mention, not some holdover hobby from Spencer's adolescence. It's elaborate and detailed and beautiful, and he doesn't even understand when Spencer would have had the time. 

"Nothing," Spencer says. He sounds as defeated as Brendon's ever heard him, as defeated as he sounded after he got back from having lunch with Ryan that day. 

"Spence ... It's not nothing. This is not nothing. It's incredible."

"It _is_ nothing," Spencer says. "Brendon, seriously forget it. It's just a dumb waste of time."

"Dude," Brendon says. His tone is sharper than he means for it to be, but honestly, Spencer's being an ass about this. Brendon just wants him to explain. "I don't want to forget about it. I want you to tell me what this is." 

Spencer shrugs. "They were my dad's," he says, deceptively casual. Brendon knows that Spencer wears the veil of nonchalance lightly; he has held Spencer while he silently cried after talking to his father on the phone. "He gave them to me a few years ago. Said he wanted me to have them." 

Spencer's voice hitches and it does a strange thing to Brendon's heart. 

"I started putting it together after Haley went back to Illinois. We weren't ... I needed something to fill the time." 

"Why didn't you ever say anything?" Brendon wants wrap his arms around Spencer, but there's still some frigid unspoken distance between them. 

"It's dumb, Brendon," Spencer says, like he should understand. "It's a weird, dumb, lame waste of time. When was I supposed to say something? When we were out drinking with Shane and everyone? 'Yeah, that story about the kick-ass party last night is great but let me tell you about my _model trains_ '." 

"You could have," Brendon says, even though he knows that he couldn't have. 

Spencer just rolls his eyes. "It would have been a joke," he says. 

"Not to me," Brendon says, and he can't take it any more. He crosses the room and wraps his arms around Spencer. It's awkward, with his nose pressed into Spencer's chest and Spencer still all brittle and straight-spined, but Brendon doesn't care. "Nothing you care about is a joke to me." 

"Brendon," Spencer says in a pained voice. "I didn't mean it like that." 

"You could have told me," Brendon says. "Did you really think I'd laugh? I love it." 

"You do?" Spencer's eyes are so blue in the gloom. Brendon doesn't know how someone so kind and so smart and so strong can be so wrongheaded about some things. 

"Dude," Brendon says. "You have a tiny, magical train world in your basement. How could that not be awesome?" 

Spencer's tense for a moment still, but then he laughs, shaking in Brendon's embrace. "I don't know," he says. "It just seemed ... I thought you'd think it was stupid." 

"I don't," Brendon says. "But you need to add a roller coaster. And a castle." 

"A roller coaster and a castle, huh?"

"Definitely," Brendon says.

"I think that might be just what it needs," Spencer agrees, and he slides his arms up around Brendon's waist and kisses him.


End file.
